Black Paint and Cinnamon Hearts
by Teenage.Dream92
Summary: "Uh, Tyson? What do you have in mind?" I asked uneasily, fidgeting in my seat.   He didn't answer me. Instead, he grinned and grabbed my wrist, dragging me off of the bench. "Come on."
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N):** Hey there! How are all you guys doing? I just thought I'd write up a Valentine's Day fic, you know, since it's coming up. Err, I'm not too fond of the day, to tell you the truth, which might be why the fic seems a little cynical to begin. :P Oh, one thing - this is a three-shot fic. I'll update tomorrow and the day after and then it'll be done. Just because this was kind of long for a one-shot. :P Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think in a review. :)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Beyblade.

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**Black Paint and Cinnamon Hearts, Chapter 1.**

I was sitting on a bench that was bordering the busiest street in Bakuten, watching as car after car whizzed by me. As they zoomed by, they would create gusts of wind that ruffled my chestnut curls, which today were as limp and lifeless as I felt, myself. The artificial breeze left me with a cold sensation, one that chilled me to the bone. But I didn't mind. It was numbing and, in a way, comforting. So I let the cold seep in through the winter jacket I had shrugged on, allowing my mind to wander and my eyes to drift in and out of focus.

I wasn't really sure how long I'd been there, really. I had woken up unusually early today, much to my dismay. I remember squinting and trying to peer at the bright red digital numbers on my alarm clock. I had blinked and rubbed my eyes as I took in the time. Seven-thirty, right on the dot. I let out a groan – or, a croak I guess, since my voice had been hoarse – and pulled the blanket over my head. Trying to slip back into unconsciousness proved to be harder than I thought. No matter how hard I shut my eyes, they wouldn't stay closed. So I peeled back those covers and painfully dragged myself from the safety of my bed. I stopped at my vanity mirror and said the one thing that I thought would get me through the day:

"You are a strong, independent woman."

As the words left my mouth, I realized how lame I was acting. I was talking to my mirror, acting like some sort of crazed self-help maniac. I made a grimace and watched as my reflection did the same. I despised seeing myself like this, all beaten down and feeling crappy, but I knew it was just a phase. A twenty-four hour phase. I sighed at my mirror and then left the comfort of my room.

That was about all I remembered.

Then I was here, perched on the edge of my seat at the heart of the city. I let my mind wander back to my self-help words. I suppose those words _did_ help me a little. At least, I didn't walk as far as I did last year. That was a small victory in itself. Well, whatever. Not like anyone was looking for me anyways.

Ugh. I hated this day more and more each year. When would they decide to just cancel it so that I could get the hell on with my life?

I clamped my eyes shut, thinking that what I didn't see couldn't hurt me. I forced my eyelids down so hard that I could feel the muscles around my eyes start to tire and ache. But I didn't want to open up to the painful world around me. Instead, all I did was lean backwards onto the bench and slide down so that my entire back was on the horizontal part of it. I let my legs stretch out onto the sidewalk and tried to succumb to the darkness.

Let me tell you, it didn't really work.

A few minutes or a few hours later, I couldn't really tell which, I felt a slight pressure on my legs. It was that odd sensation that kind of broke me out of my forced meditation, although I didn't bother opening my eyes to see what it was. I remained where I was as something – a shoe, most likely – got caught on my calves. Someone was stumbling over my extended feet. I guessed that it was one-half of another one of those annoying couples that were roaming the streets this afternoon. I hated their guts. So, at the last second, I deliberately shifted my feet to better accommodate the fall that they were inevitably about to face. As expected, one second later, I heard the satisfying sound of ground connecting with face. This was followed by the muffled sound of an irritated voice.

"Damn it!"

I stopped breathing at the familiar tone to the voice. I flicked my eyes open and scanned the ground near me. There was a crimson and indigo cap laying a little ways away from the bench. Shortly after spotting the hat, my ruby orbs came to rest on my victim, who was sprawled across the width of the sidewalk. Although his face was in the snow, it wasn't hard to tell who he was. If the hat didn't give it away, the red and blue sports jacket did. Not to mention the wild mop of midnight-blue hair atop his head.

I shouldn't have been surprised. He _would_ be the only one dumb enough not to see my feet in the middle of the sidewalk.

But wasn't he supposed to be on a date or something?

I didn't feel like questioning him at the moment. Actually, I didn't feel like doing anything at the moment. I just slid down further in my seat, and tried to pull my head into the neck of my jacket. Maybe if I sat really still, he wouldn't notice me. After all, Tyson Granger had the attention span of a gnat.

"Oh, look. It's a penny," I heard him chime to himself cheerfully, right on cue. Case in point.

I sighed quietly to myself, careful not to disturb him. If he saw me now, he'd ask questions. I hated answering to him. Even though he was dense most of the time, the one thing he always seemed to be right about was _me_. I don't know how he did it, but he had this amazing knack of reading into my thoughts. I couldn't stand it when he did that – it was my number one pet peeve. He would always be able to anticipate my actions or feelings. It sucked. I mean, a girl needs her privacy.

I kept my eyes on him and saw him snatch what I supposed was the coin off of the ground. He took it within his bare hands and studied the object in his hands as if it were something foreign. Then he brushed it against his jacket briskly. He didn't pocket the change like I thought he would, though. Instead, he got up from the ground and turned around to face me, a lopsided grin on his face.

I was so totally busted.

"A penny for your thoughts, Hil," he smirked, extending the hand with the coin towards me.

"Ha-ha," I rolled my eyes at him. "Very funny."

"I thought so."

"You think everything that comes out of your mouth is funny," I told him, looking at the palm of his hand warily. It was true. He always laughed at his own jokes. Most of them were corny, some of them were dorky. I think less than one percent of his intended jokes were _actually _funny. I stole a glance at the penny he was offering me, only to realize that it wasn't a penny at all. It was a quarter. "Besides, that's not even a penny."

"Can't you just let me have my moment for _once_?" Tyson groaned, collapsing on the bench beside me.

Out of force of habit, I rolled my eyes at him again. "What _moment_ are we talking about, exactly?"

"You know, the one almost two seconds ago? The penny—"

"Whatever," I said, swiftly cutting him off before he got too far into his rant. I was too tired to have an argument with him today. All I wanted to do was wallow alone, in peace.

"Wow, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," was all he responded with, which was odd for him, since he usually had some sort of pre-planned fight in his head. But today, he just sat there and looked at me, a grin on his face. Just by his expression, I could tell that he had already figured out why he was here. Damn his sixth-sense ability to read my mind.

"I wish I hadn't gotten up from my bed at all," I moaned, trying to slide farther down the bench. By now, my head was almost on the horizontal part itself. My neck was starting to ache from the odd, twisted position I was in. But I ignored it and continued to sink lower until I was barely on the bench itself.

Tyson watched me do all of this with a bemused expression on his face. "You're really flexible," he replied, a suggestive tone underlying his voice. I shot him a glare but didn't bother to push myself into an upright position. I was used to his perverted thoughts about the opposite sex. Usually, they weren't about me, but once in a while he'd throw one in just to annoy the hell out of me. I have to admit, he was doing a good job.

"You're creepy, you know that?"

"Hey, I'm a teenage guy. Dirty thoughts are a part of my job description."

"What sort of job are we talking about?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"We can talk about that later," he threw me a wink to which, again, I rolled my eyes. He deliberately ignored my response and instead went on to ask me the one question I had been dreading from him. "So, what are you doing out here, anyways?"

"Uh, nothing," I laughed in what I hoped was a casual, happy-go-lucky manner. "Just getting some fresh air…"

He didn't buy it. "You're moping, aren't you?"

_Damn it._

"N-no!" I stammered, obviously lying through my teeth. "I was taking a _walk_, alright?"

"Do you know want to know what I think?" Tyson asked me, paying no attention to my blatant lie.

"No, I sure as hell do _not_—"

"You're bitter because it's Valentine's Day." He cut me off and finished his thought, smiling proudly at his revelation. I guess it wasn't too hard to point out. It _was_ Valentine's Day and it _was_ easy to see that I _was_ sulking. Anyone who saw me now would have been able to pinpoint it without even having to know me. But having _Tyson_ point it out, of all people, was humiliating.

I scowled, which I guess was enough of an answer for him. His brown eyes lit up like they did when his grandpa called him to get dinner. It was a mixture of joy and pride, with just a tad of exuberance. It was a look I saw often, since I was at his house a lot of the time. But it still hurt to see him thrilled about my state of depression.

"Geeze, you don't have to seem so happy about it."

"Come on, Hil. Valentine's Day isn't so bad," he coaxed, trying to reason with me. It didn't work.

"Are you kidding me? I'm supposed to take the word of a guy with about a _million_ different girls who would _beg_ to go out with a World Champion Beyblader?" I threw him a look of annoyance mixed with incredulity. "And speaking of which, why aren't you out on some sort of magical date?"

He mumbled something under his breath which I didn't catch, but when I asked him about it he looked down at his hands and replied with a short, "Never mind." I found it a little odd that he had decided to dodge my question but I didn't really care much anyways; I was more concerned with my own well-being at the moment. Call it selfish, but he could've had any girl he wanted. It was his own problem that he turned down the chance to spend Valentine's Day with someone special.

"Whatever," I repeated, closing my crimson eyes. "Just…leave me alone, Tyson."

I heard the creaking of the bench underneath me as he got up and the seat was relieved of his weight. Soon after, I heard the shuffling of his feet against the powdery snow. I couldn't bear to open my eyes and so I imagined him walking away as the sounds of his sneakers against the trodden snow slowly died into a soft crunch. When I couldn't hear him anymore, I sucked in a mouthful of the cold winter air. I was a little disappointed that he had left so quickly, but I shouldn't have expected anything less. I told him to leave because a little alone time was what I needed.

Or was it?

With a sinking feeling, I pried my eyes open, only to be met by a startling image.

"Oh god, Tyson! What the hell?"

"You thought you could get rid of me that easily? I'm insulted," His mouth was literally inches from my face, that crooked grin still tugging at the corner of his lips. As he spoke, his breath instantaneously crystallized and hit my face, shaking me awake. He was so close that I could make out the flecks of dark brown embedded within his light brown eyes.

"I…but…I thought…you…footsteps—"

Tyson gave me a strange look as I continued to stare at him dazedly and mumble incoherent sentences. "Deep breaths, Hil,"

It took me several minutes, but my heart stopped racing enough for me to get a grip on the situation. I slowly placed a hand over the left side of my chest and glowered at Tyson, mentally strangling him for the trouble he was causing me. God, it was so confusing when he was around. Half the time I wanted him there, but the other half of the time I couldn't _stand_ him. It was a sort of love-hate relationship. And right now, I was back to feeling intense hate.

"Were you trying to give me a freaking heart attack?"

"So, here's what I'm going to suggest," he began, not addressing my previous comment. This just irritated me even more. I was on the verge of _actually_ strangling him. My hands were just itching to get a hold of him. I felt my eye twitch a little as the anger built up, but the anger was quelled once again as my ears attuned to the sound of his voice, and of three words that he uttered in the same sentence.

"What?"

"I was _saying_…" Tyson drawled, making sure I caught every word. I threw him another glare. I was obviously paying attention. At least, I was _now_. "…that you and I are going to go out on a date for Valentine's Day."

So my ears weren't deceiving me. Tyson really said the words "you," "I," and "date" all at once.

_What the hell was going on?_

It was silent for a moment while I contemplated the thought. He stood there, with his hands stuffed into his pockets, and looked at me expectantly. I half-expected him to tell me that this was all just a prank, that he really didn't mean it, that he wanted to see the look on my face when he asked me. But he said nothing. Eventually, I broke the silence.

"This is a joke, right?" I inquired curiously, still waiting for him to punch me in the arm and say, 'You've been Punk'd!" or 'You're on Candid Camera!'

To my surprise, he looked a little hurt. "No, why?"

"Forgive me for stating the obvious," I replied, "but wouldn't it be weird?"

"Why would it be weird?"

"Well, first of all, we're friends."

"So? Can't two friends go out together…as friends?" he countered. After seeing the annoyed look that danced across my face, he smirked and continued. "Is there a second of all…?"

"Yeah, actually, there _is_," I took a deep breath, not believing that I was actually going to tell him. But I was the level-headed and rational one out of the two of us; if anyone was fit to be making decisions, it was me. I was still reluctant to say the words that, unfortunately, had to come out of my mouth. So, even though I was desperate, I just ploughed through those tough, tough words. "I don't want a stupid pity-date from you!"

Tyson surprised me again as his face twisted into a somewhat maniacal look. "Oh Hil, this won't be your average Valentine's Day date. No, this will be _nothing_ like it."

I was a little uncomfortable with the way he was looking at me. "Uh, Tyson? What do you have in mind?" I asked uneasily, fidgeting in my seat.

He didn't answer me. Instead, he grinned and grabbed my wrist, dragging me off of the bench. "Come on."

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**(A/N):** I hope you guys liked it so far! Next part will be up tomorrow. Let me know what you think. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N):** Here's chapter two! Not much to say except I hope you enjoy it! Review if you'd like. :)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Beyblade.

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**Black Paint and Cinnamon Hearts, Chapter 2**

"Where the hell are you taking me?"

Tyson was walking at about a mile per minute. At least, that's what it seemed like from my point of view. He had a vice-like grip on my wrist and was pulling me along like some dog on a leash. I tried to wriggle my way out from his grasp, but his hand kept tightening around mine every single time he felt me struggle. And when I tried to plant my feet into the ground and stop him in his tracks, it didn't work; he was much stronger than I was. All he had to do was give me a harsh yank and I'd be uprooted from my position.

After a few more futile attempts, I let out an exasperated sigh and gave up trying to overpower him. I stared daggers at the back of Tyson's head since he didn't turn around – not _once_ – to look at me. I was pretty sure he could tell, though. God, if looks could kill, Tyson would have been long dead by now. I kept clearing my throat and coughing loudly while he continued to walk briskly ahead of me, hoping he'd catch the hint and at least slow down so that I could stop having to stumble behind him.

Unfortunately for me, he didn't.

"Ty_son_!" I screeched, letting my shrill voice pierce the cool February atmosphere. I hoped that he would drop my hand like a hot iron once he heard the sound of my scream. But he never let go of my wrist. All he did was take his free hand and clamp it down over one of his ears. Of all the times to be smart, he chose _now_, when I was depending on using his stupidity to get out of this mess.

"I could really use three hands right about now," Tyson remarked dryly.

"I'm not in the mood for one of your lame jokes!" I continued to yell, not caring that I was making a scene. "Let me _go_!"

"Shhh, be quiet, will you?" Tyson stopped in his tracks and whipped around to give me a glare. I matched it easily with a murderous look of my own.

"I refuse to be quiet," I replied, stomping my feet angrily and crossing my arms. "I don't _want _to go on some crappy Valentine's Day date with you." As I created a fit, a bypassing couple looked over at our exchange and gave us a sympathetic look. I could see them mentally judging our behaviour as they slowly walked by with a frown set upon their faces. Perfect. Just freaking perfect. People not only thought that we were a _couple_, which was wrong on _so_ many levels, but they also thought that we were a _fighting _couple. I didn't need their sympathy. I just needed to get away from the guy who caused my problem. So I raised my voice an octave and yelled out angrily, "Stop it! Don't force me to go on a date with you!" as loud as I could.

Tyson's face turned a shade darker than his crimson jacket. "I'm not forcing you, honey," he replied in a fake voice which was slightly sweet but was laced with frustration. Then, in a flash, he turned to the two onlookers and gave them a sheepish grin. "Don't mind her…I think it's just…um…_that_ time of the month." When they nodded understandingly and left, Tyson heaved a sigh and twirled back around to look at me.

And that's when my hand met the side of his face.

"Ow! What was that for?" Tyson said as he brought his hand up towards his face and rested it upon his left cheek. He rubbed it tenderly and narrowed his russet eyes into thin slits.

"You jerk!" I huffed. "It's _not_ my timeof the month. That's next week. I know because—"

"Whoa, I didn't need to hear that," Tyson interrupted, finally letting go of my wrist to stick his fingers within his ears. "Although, that _does _explain why you threw that plate at me last month—"

I slapped him again, which effectively shut him up.

"Damn it, Hil, would you stop doing that? Geeze, you make a big deal out of everything," he snapped, resting his hands on his face once again. I raised my hand to slap him again and smirked a little when I saw him flinch. My physical abuse was definitely taking a toll on him. Serves him right for thinking he could boss me around. No one takes advantage of Hilary Tachibana and gets away with it.

"Well, maybe I wouldn't have to make a big deal out of this if you just told me where we're going."

"It's a surprise." I made a motion to smack his face once again. Tyson whimpered and shielded his face with his arms. He was such a baby. "Fine, I'll tell you. Just _please_, don't hit me anymore." I lowered my hand and he sighed in relief. "Look, between you and me, I don't like Valentine's Day either."

I shot him a sceptical look. "Uh, yeah right."

"I don't."

"I'm pretty sure you do."

"Seriously, I don't."

"Seriously, you _do_."

"Ugh," Tyson threw his hands in the air, showing me his frustration. "I don't, okay? Girls are so st—" I didn't like where his train of thought was going and so I raised my hand threateningly, which did a good job stopping him. "Er, stunning? Awesome? Fantastic?" Tyson laughed nervously, and I saw his eyes flicker to the palm of my hand. I gave him an innocent smile and watched as he scowled before continuing. "Look, the point is, I hate it just as much as you do."

"Somehow, I can't see that," I replied, frowning slightly. "How can _you_ of all people hate Valentine's Day? You get free chocolate and dates with random girls. That's pretty much your dream."

Tyson pursed his lips thoughtfully before answering. "I have other dreams, you know!"

"Like what? Becoming the most lazy, self-centred dimwit? Sorry to disappoint you, Tys, but I think you've already got a good hold on _that_ dream."

"That's not very nice," Tyson pouted.

"Well, life usually isn't."

"Okay, now I'm _really_ starting to doubt that it's not your time of the month."

"Shut the hell up." I scoffed, and turned on my heels to walk away. He caught my wrist again, however, and twirled me around to face him.

"Mall," he said softly, and when I gave him a questioning look, "You asked where I was going to take you."

His cinnamon-brown eyes locked onto mine only for a fleeting second, but even then, I felt like I couldn't tear my own eyes away from his intense stare. His gaze conveyed something between determination and sincerity, something that couldn't easily be turned away from. It seemed like forever that our small exchange lasted, although I'm sure it only lasted long within my head. But then his eyes shifted and his solemn expression turned into his trademark crooked smile. At that moment, I knew I couldn't say no.

I was a sucker for a pair of brown eyes and a charismatic personality.

I sighed in defeat, letting him know that I wasn't too happy about it. "Fine. On three conditions."

His face brightened. "Anything. Shoot."

"First, this _isn't_ a date."

"Okay..."

"Second, you're going to tell me everything you plan to do."

"I like a woman who's in charge," he winked at me and, naturally, I gagged. "So what's the third condition?" He finally asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

I flicked my auburn hair over my shoulder and threw him a small, evil smile. And before Tyson could react in any way, I punched him in the arm as hard as I could, throwing out all of my frustration. I'd be lying if I said that I was _only_ irritated at Tyson. I'm pretty sure that most of the force from my hand came from all the pent-up anger I had towards Valentine's Day. God, I hated it so damn much.

Well, whatever. At least I wasn't going to spend it alone this year. But this boy had to learn some manners.

"_That_ was for calling me honey," I growled, crossing my arms, "Don't even _think_ of calling me honey. That's just a stupid word for stupid Valentine's Day for stupid people who are in stupid love." I started walking in the direction of Bakuten's main mall, fuming.

"Damn," I heard Tyson mutter under his breath, followed by the sound of the cautious crunch of his footsteps as he began to trek a safe distance behind me.

**X O X O X**

The walk into the mall had been anything but comfortable. We had strolled in together, him still giving me nervous glances and me still extremely angry at him. Although, really, I had no reason to be mad at him. Technically, I _was_ spending Valentine's Day with a guy – and he was a good guy, at least. Tyson wasn't like those other guys I had dated. Sure, he was conceited, arrogant, and had an ego the size of Japan. But he wasn't the type to flake out on a girl on Valentine's Day, like my previous boyfriends. He was the sincere guy who would probably follow you to the ends of the Earth; he was just that loyal.

I shuddered. Thinking of him in that context made me feel a little bit uncomfortable. It always had. At first, I thought it was because I was in that awkward stage of my life, the one that puts the emphasis on cooties. Then, about a year later, when I had just started managing the Bladebreakers, the thought struck me again. I just assumed that it was because it was too _weird_ to think of Tyson Granger in that way because he was my friend. But four years later, even though I was perfectly positive of the _platonic_-and-nothing-else relationship with him, I still couldn't shake the feeling. So, I avoided it as much as I could.

At least, it was working fine for me so far. I think.

Thoughts like those had become slightly harder to block lately, especially with the amount of time I was starting to spend with the boys. Nowadays, it wasn't just restricted to training, practice and tournaments. We'd go out after a long day, to some sort of restaurant. Or we'd sit in and watch a movie, some boring action film that would be suggested by one of the guys. We all stuck around, just to hang out. I was just "one of the guys" by this point.

But part of me wanted to know if Tyson thought of me in the same way. And, of course, the other part of me dully noted that he was my friend and that it would be weird.

It was also hard to concentrate on other matters when the mall was filled with couples, roaming around with their fingers intertwined. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Tyson. He was obviously distressed for some reason, probably because he was just as uncomfortable as me. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, his eyes shifting nervously from store to store. I was acutely aware of how close he was; the thing was, he was hardly close at all. He had placed several inches of space between us. I frowned, wondering if he was still peeved about my earlier physical abuse.

Tyson happened to catch a glimpse of my frown and flashed me a toothy grin. "Feeling bad about attacking me?"

"No," I grumbled, even though that was a little bit of a lie.

"Valentine's Day still got you down?" He tried again, seeming genuinely interesting. Well, _that_ was new.

"I'm fine," I protested, crossing my arms in denial. "Mind telling me what we're doing here _now_?"

Tyson had managed to escape my questions on the way here. I don't actually know how he did it. Somehow, he dodged every single comment I had, leaving me with barely anything to work with. So by now, I was mildly curious as to his plans.

"First," he stated, "tell me why you hate this holiday so much."

"Mind your own damn business." I made a face at him, to which he laughed.

"If you tell me your reason, I'll tell you mine."

I gazed at him doubtfully. He _had_ said that he hated Valentine's as much as I did. I was just as curious to find out his reasons as I was to finding out what the hell he had me come to the mall for. It was like killing two birds with one stone. And I guess that my reason wasn't anything _too_ personal. Maybe…

"Deal," I sighed. "Loser boyfriends."

"That's it?"

"What do you _mean_, 'That's it'? Every single one of those damn boyfriends dumped me before Valentine's Day. I never got the chance to—" I stopped myself in midsentence, noticing another couple walking hand-in-hand. I took a moment to shake it off. My confession to Tyson was getting way to personal for my liking. The last thing I needed was for him to know everything about me and my love life when I was kind of trying to mentally block those dreaded thoughts about him. "Uh, the point is, all of those boys can go rot in hell for all I care."

"So the feisty Tachibana shows her face," he smirked. "I like it."

"Yeah, well, those guys apparently didn't."

"Those guys are idiots," Tyson replied, much to my surprise. I was half-expecting some sort of lame joke about how I scared guys away. I guess the look I was giving him was sort of freaking him out because I saw him flush. He covered it up with a nervous laugh. "Heh, well, you'll find a guy. And if you don't, you can always use your powers for good, not evil!" I guess I spoke too soon.

I gave him an annoyed look and narrowed my eyes at him. "Okay, Mr. Hot-Shot. Your turn to spill."

He wasn't dodgy or elusive in the slightest when he replied. "Valentine's Day dates are too awkward. There's too much pressure. And it doesn't feel natural, you know?" I nodded, but the truth was, I didn't know. I hadn't ever been on a Valentine's Day date with a guy before. But I could see where he was coming from. I knew that _I_ would have expected nothing short of perfect. Tyson folded his arms behind his head before continuing. "I want a date to be relaxed."

"I can see that," I chuckled. "You're lazy, uncooperative, and work the worst under pressure."

"Thanks," he muttered, throwing me a glare.

"Just returning the favour," I said innocently, and then remembering that we had a deal, "So, _now_ will you tell me what we're going to do?"

"We're going," he replied, the glower being replaced with a mischievous twinkle, "to have some fun."

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**(A/N):** So you guys are probably wondering what the title of this story has to do with anything. Well, you'll find out next chapter. ;D Anyways, review and let me know what your thoughts were. :) PS: Happy (or, Unhappy, if you're not too happy about it) Valentine's Day!


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N):** Oh my god! I'm so sorry I didn't update sooner! I was supposed to update on Monday, and I only ended up updating today. :( I'm really sorry! I had a bunch of midterms and assignments being flung around, this way and that. So much that I couldn't even update. I hope you'll forgive me once I tell you that this chapter is longer than the other two! So this is the final part. I hope you guys like it! By the way, for anyone who doesn't know what cinnamon hearts are, they are these small little red heart-shaped candies that taste like...you guessed it...cinnamon! XD They are pretty much my favourite V-Day candy, lmao. I don't know why, I'm just addicted. :P

AND THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS. It really makes my day, reading all of your little comments. Anyways, here we go - part 3!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Beyblade.

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**Black Paint and Cinnamon Hearts, Chapter 3.**

"Uh," I started, giving my navy-haired companion a confused look, "what are we going to do with those?"

By some fluke – well, at least I _thought_ it was a fluke – Tyson and I had ended up in the dollar store. It was one of the few stores that I rarely ever ventured into. Not only was it cramped, but it seemed to give off some sort of shady vibe. It was located at one of the mall's extremities where people rarely ever went, and I was almost positive that the cashier was some sort of pervert. He kept looking at me with a weird expression on his face. Eventually I got really uncomfortable and began to fidget around, trying not to stay in one place at once. When his eyes began to follow me, I tried to distract myself from his lingering gaze.

Tyson eyed me suspiciously. "Stop moving. You're making me dizzy."

My eyes flickered in the direction of the male at the counter, and cringed when he smiled at me. He didn't look too old, and he wasn't too bad looking. But there was just something about him that I just didn't like. "Sorry, but that guy is giving me the creeps." Tyson's own gaze shifted to the counter and dawdled there a little too long. I smacked his arm to get his attention and to break his obvious stare. "God, be subtle, will you? What if he attacks us or something?"

"Well, then, I'd say your problems are solved," he laughed, "You won't have to think about spending Valentine's Day alone."

"I'd choose you over him any day," I replied, sort of without thinking. A few seconds passed before the realization set; my face then became sort of hot as I flushed with embarrassment. I was usually good with not letting my thoughts slip out. But they always used to slip out at the oddest times. More often than not, it was with Tyson. I guessed he sort of brought out the absent-mindedness in me. So I backtracked a little and added, "I mean, since you're my friend and all." That really _was_ what I had meant to say to him. I'm pretty sure.

"Thanks, Hil," he said shortly and grinned, but it was enough. I'm pretty sure if he had expanded on his words it might have been a little awkward. Both he and I – but mainly him – weren't too good on the whole emotional basis. We never really talked about it, although we had an unwritten rule that we'd be there when the other needed us. Of course, this pact had been made when we were much younger, before all the arguments started. When the fighting _did_ start, several years later, I assumed that our little agreement had been overturned. But I guess I was wrong. The night that I had my first big fight with my mother, he was pretty nice to me. Of course, after I had gotten over my problems, he went back to his annoying slacker-self.

Typical Tyson.

He turned his attention back to the shelf in front of him and grabbed a round, plastic tub. I recognized the small red candies it contained, but I still couldn't see why we were getting them. "So why are we getting cinnamon hearts again?"

"You'll see."

I was beyond annoyed at his lack of information. The only other information that I'd managed to extract from him was that we'd be heading to the movies after we stopped somewhere else. I assumed that this was the final stop before heading over to catch a flick. I gave him a scowl before asking about something else I'd seen him take from the craft aisle. "What about the black paint?"

"You'll figure it out," he smirked.

"You're annoying," I scoffed, which earned nothing but a grin from the 'blader.

"Like I haven't heard that one before," Tyson laughed.

Tyson scooped up both items and paid for them while I lagged back, hiding behind Tyson from the scrutinizing eyes of the cashier. After I gave the guy a wary smile, we left, the shops bell chiming as we stepped back into the frigid winter air. By now, it was getting kind of late – around seven o'clock – and I was wondering why Tyson was taking me to a movie. It was true that the Bakuten movie theatre was the city's main attraction; it was an architectural masterpiece, with three levels and an abundance of sparkling windows that ran around the top and sides of the building. But it was also a hotspot for couples, especially on Valentine's Day. I thought I had made it clear when I told Tyson that I wanted to stay clear of that crowd.

Tyson never listens.

I sighed when we finally arrived at the theatre, noticing all the people who were walking in through the sliding doors with their arms around each other. I looked at Tyson and he was realizing the same thing. But he didn't seem to share the same sentiments as me; in fact, he was downright beaming. I gave him an odd look, trying to figure out what he was thinking of. When he didn't respond in any way, I started to shuffle within the building, letting out a breath of air. Tyson, however, finally snapped out of his trance and tugged the hood of my jacket, causing me to fly backwards out of the theatre lobby that I just walked into.

"What was that for?" I rubbed the part of my neck near the collar of my jacket. Tyson had pulled so hard that it had somewhat choked me. I was not a happy camper. I waited for him to reply with an annoyed expression on my face, but he never answered me. He stood just stood there with some sort of stupid grin on his face. "Well?" I finally asked after becoming increasingly impatient.

"What is the one thing that you want to do when you see a couple on Valentine's Day?" The grin on his face stretched out even further as he dodged my question yet again.

I sighed again. By now I was used to his sketchy answers. There was just no getting a straight answer out of him. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Hey, I ask the questions around here."

"Yeah, only because you're too hard-headed to let me know what the hell is going on."

"I have my reasons," He pouted, a slight frown replacing the wide smile that was there before. "Well, whatever. Just answer my question."

"Well," Biting my lip, I thought of the best way to put it. "I would probably want to take a bat and beat the crap out of them." As the words came out of my mouth, Tyson's expression contorted into one of horror. He stared at me with his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide in fright. I gave him a naive smile. "What? Too forward?"

All he said was, "Are you _sure_ it's not your time of the month?"

"If it was, you'd be in the middle of the street during rush hour. Do the math," I growled, and narrowed my eyes.

"Heh, you know I was never good with numbers, Hil," He raised his hands in defence and laughed nervously. I could tell he was more than a little scared. Awesome. I loved knowing that I could intimidate the six-foot 'blader so easily.

"Get to the point sometime _today_," I finally responded.

"Well, while you prefer violent physical abuse of our resident couples," he grinned yet again, flashing me those bright pearly whites of his. I felt my own lips tug into a small smile; his grin was infectious, really. I tried to convince myself that it was the fact that his smile was a little lopsided, that it was funny-looking. While I stared at his smile, he finished, "I prefer to annoy the hell out of them."

I heaved another sigh, probably the millionth one today. But whether it was about my lingering thoughts about his smile or about his idea, I wasn't too sure. "You _are_ good at that…" I replied, watching his expression as he frowned outwardly. "So what are you suggesting?" In response, Tyson stuck out his hand. Hanging on his wrist was a plastic bag, set with all the stuff we had bought at the dollar store. I looked at it curiously before I asked him yet another question, "Uh, what do black paint and cinnamon hearts have to do with anything?"

"You ask too many questions," Tyson grinned, reaching into the plastic bag limply dangling off of his hand. He pulled out the box of cinnamon hearts. As he popped off the top of the plastic lid, he gestured to a nearby couple, situated on a bench directly in front of the theatre, a little to the right of us. He nudged me behind a small corner that was conveniently positioned between the doorway to the cinema and the bench. I stared at him peculiarly as he uncrossed my arms and dropped the open box of small red candies into them. He took a handful of the hearts and turned to me swiftly with an evil smile. "Watch and learn, Hil,"

As Tyson leaned around the corner, I stuck back and peered without leaving the safety of our spot. The couple was now heartily engaging in a public display of affection. I made a face, but Tyson didn't even seem to notice. He had already focused in on his target and, without making a sound, he plucked a few cinnamon hearts from the palm of his hand. With a great amount of accuracy, he quickly and quietly aimed at the heads of the two lovebirds. I had a hard time stifling a laugh as the two broke apart and gazed dazedly at one another.

Tyson slipped back out of sight as he hid in the corner with me, chuckling to himself as he took the box of hearts out of my hands. It was a pretty stupid idea, but it looked sort of fun. I looked around the corner again, only to see the couple continue on their making-out spree. I furrowed my brows and gave them a murderous glare, one which they obviously did not notice. PDA was the stupidest thing around; it was pretty much disgusting. With newfound anger, I decided to try Tyson's annoyance method. Better than nothing, right? Without turning around, I stuck my hand towards Tyson, "Hand me some of those cinnamon hearts,"

When I felt the candy enter my palm, I didn't hesitate to whip a few right at the couple. To my satisfaction, one of them hit the eye of the female. That effectively stopped the make-out session right in its tracks.

"What the hell, Danny?" As I stealthily slid out of view, I heard the girl question her lover in an irritated tone. "You poked me in the eye, you dimwit!"

"W-what? No I didn't!" The denial was clear in his voice. I sneered as they continued to argue.

"Dude," Tyson whispered beside me, his voice disbelieving. "With that aim, if you had a beyblade in your hand, you'd be unstoppable," he paused momentarily and I felt him lean over me to peer over the corner as well. "That's priceless," he smirked, "You're a natural."

"I feel like I was meant to do this all my life," I joked. He raised his fist to me and I hit it with a fist of my own, smiling at the memory of our childhood. It was a handshake used mainly as a greeting by a lot of guys nowadays, but Tyson and I had created it long before, when we were little. By now, it had become natural; it had just stuck. "So if we're here to do this," I gestured to the fighting couple and the box of cinnamon hearts, "then why are we at the movies? There are tonnes of those couples roaming around everywhere."

"Have you ever," he began, "gotten really pissed at those couples that go to a movie, and then just end up kissing the entire time?"

I caught his drift immediately. "Sweet, sweet revenge." I stated, and he nodded in acknowledgement. I started to walk in towards the doors. He caught the back of my jacket again, and twirled me around to face him.

"One last thing." Again that maniacal smile appeared on his face and I stared at him uncomfortably. He was really starting to remind me of that creepy cashier at the dollar store.

"What now?" I asked warily.

"This."

He took out the tube of black paint that he had also bought. I stared at it with a blank look on my face. I had no idea what it we were going to use it for, but I was sure I was going to find out. By the look on his face, I knew he was going to keep me in the dark until the very last moment. All I managed to say was a hoarse, "Oh no," before he took my hand and swept me into the movie theatre.

**X O X O X**

"I feel like Kai."

I whispered my comment to Tyson, one which he replied by snickering lowly to himself. I never usually compared myself to our captain; personally, I found him to be too different from myself. He was tall, stoic, and mysterious. I, on the other hand, was loud, shrill, and predictable. But as I sat in the darkened theatre, I knew there was no other way to describe how I felt.

"Actually, Hiwatari was part of the inspiration." Tyson laughed yet again as he eyed the black markings smeared directly under my eyes, on the higher part of my cheekbones. It had dried to a scaly crust by now, and it felt gross against my face. I really didn't understand how Kai put up with this gunk all over his face; it felt horrible to me.

"I can see that," I sighed, sinking lower in my seat.

"Hey," he laughed. "You look fine. Besides, you gotta have the war paint if you're going into war," he winked.

"Sure," I said sarcastically. "What was the other part of your inspiration?"

"You," he replied simply. I could feel my face getting hot once again, but he didn't notice since the darkness covered it up. Did he just say _I_ was the inspiration? The thought seemed to thrill me and fill me with a nauseating feeling all at once. But when he finished his sentence, it all cleared up. Sort of. "I wanted to see how funny you looked with it on."

I recovered from my momentary lapse and turned to him, surveying the near-identical painted markings on his own face. "You look pretty funny too," I responded, although it was sort of a lie. He looked pretty good in anything, and even with those silly markings on his face, he still looked kind of cute. Almost like one of those football players.

Except a little less buff.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed. "I look sexy in anything." I gave him a typical eye-roll but he just laughed, brushing away the pride-bruising response I had given him. "Whatever, Hil. Eyes on the prize." His brown eyes shifted a little to the left of us, where he had spotted another one of our victims.

We were about halfway through the movie and had thrown about three-quarters of the cinnamon hearts at couples in front of us. The romantic comedy – as suggested by Tyson since, in his words, there would be "more people to throw stuff at" – droned on, the lead actor and actress saying some variation of a cheesy pick-up line. I wanted to throw the whole tub of cinnamon hearts at the screen. The movie was too _happy_ for me. I knew no love story actually happened like that. But a part of me couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if it did.

Tyson noticed my somewhat solemn expression and handed me a handful of cinnamon hearts, giving me a reassuring smile. "Your turn."

I beamed back at him, taking the candies. Before I could second-guess my decision, I threw the whole fist of little red candies in the general direction of the couple, letting some hit people and others skitter across the floor. An array of heads turned towards us, their faces lined with irritation. I didn't really care until I saw a thin beam of light, emanating from a flashlight nearby. It was in the grasp of an usher who was climbing the stairs to get to the back of the theatre where Tyson and I were situated.

"Excuse me? Miss?" I heard the stern undertone to his voice and felt panic gripping my sides. Maybe throwing a batch of cinnamon hearts wasn't the _best_ idea.

I shot Tyson a frantic and sheepish stare. He just grinned. "Run?" I finally asked, throwing a nervous glance to the ascending usher.

"Run," he confirmed, and through the darkness I could see a smirk on his face. I wanted to smack him for laughing at my stupidity but I didn't have time. Before I could do anything, he swiftly took my hand and pulled me towards the exit, leaving the box of cinnamon hearts behind.

**X O X O X**

"We screwed up," Tyson laughed, letting it echo through the empty streets. We had rushed out of the theatre and into the cold air. Tyson had offered to walk me home, since it was getting late.

"Big time," I giggled. "But it was fun. I…had a really nice time, Tys." I murmured softly, trying not to make too much eye contact. I was too embarrassed to admit it, but Tyson had turned what seemed like an impossibly hopeless day into one that wasn't half-bad. It was actually pretty good, by my standards. Between the trip to the mall, the couple-annoying contest, and the dash out of the cinema, I realized that it was a near perfect day. Even if it _was_ a little nonconventional.

"Same," Tyson nodded with his trademark grin plastered across his features. "So have you changed your mind about Valentine's Day?"

"Nope. Never."

"Good, the feeling's mutual," he replied, laughing again.

Suddenly I saw his russet eyes focus on something behind me and I turned around. I realized, with a slight frown, that he was looking at my house. The day was finally over. I guess I should have been happy that the day had passed over for yet another year. But I couldn't seem to muster up any sort of feeling. I was _actually_ disappointed that Valentine's Day was over, for the first time in a long time. I put a smile on my face and whirled back around to face him. As soon as I did, something happened. My face bumped into his.

More specifically, my _lips_ bumped into his.

It caught me off guard, surprised me so much that I didn't have time to react. So when we pulled apart a few seconds later all I could do was stare at him dazedly. Before I could say or do anything, he just turned around with that stupid crooked smile on his face and started to walk away.

He actually kissed me and decided to walk away. Without saying a word.

"Ty_son_!" I screeched, causing him to stop in his tracks.

"Yeah?" He responded, turning his head slightly to glance over his shoulder. He didn't even turn _completely_.

I closed the gap between us in one large stride and faced him, fury building slowly. "You have the nerve to take me on this amazing date and then kiss me and _pretend like it never happened_?"

"Heh," he said a little sheepishly. "Yes?"

At that moment, I snapped.

"Oh, what the hell," I muttered, more to myself than anyone. I stood on my tip-toes and pulled his face close to my own, pressing my lips against his. It was frightening, wonderful, and thrilling all at the same time. But there was still something I hadn't thought through. "Damn it," I breathed once we'd parted, letting out a scowl.

Tyson pulled away slightly more to give me a slightly curious look, although it was masked well by the stupid smile on his face. "What's up, Hil?"

"Now we're going to have to be one of _those_ couples, aren't we?"

* * *

**(A/N):** I'll let you think about that last line. Do you think they'll be one of those normal couples? ;D Anyways, how was it? Good, bad, average, weird? LOL. Let me know what you think if you'd like. Other than that...have an awesome week! :D


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